Hitch Hike

It is 10 PM. The wind is howling and I find myself searching for shelter behind one of the big trucks. I am standing at a patrol station. My backpack, my red bag, everything is gone. Even rolling cigarettes becomes a challenge as a result of both, the stormy weather and the cold temperature. I’ve met some people who got mugged while traveling, did this just happen to me? No way… I don’t wanna believe that. I can’t imagine this Bulgarian couple had any bad intentions.

I cast my eyes to the dark sky, inhale the smoke of my cigarette and wish that I am not wrong. Salam alaikum.

1 week earlier I arrived in Kayseri. ‘What are your plans for this city?‘ did Mesut ask me prior to my arrival. ‘Well, I wanna see the air balloons and all that shit, you know?‘ – what kind of question is that, seriously – Turns out Kayseri has nothing to do with Cappadocia – it’s just big city in the same area. Same area means 100 km far from it. In case you are not aware of it, Turkey is freaking huge. Was it a mistake to request Mesut? Well, to be honest, this turned into one of the best couchsurfing experiences I’ve ever had.

What makes a Couchsurfing experience special? Usually it’s either overwhelming generosity, some special achievements or unique, local events you get into. This surf had it all. Even Jordy Smith would be jealous.

Unique, local event

A wedding. I’ve heard heaps stories of travelers getting invited to weddings and this time it was me! I got invited to a traditional Muslim wedding of Mesut’s cousin. No people shooting guns in the air, no people dancing in a weird way but it was special for sure. Both genders were strictly separated during both days, even for dinner and people were substituting alcohol with the most common Turkish drug. Tea! When the bridal couple walked in, the whole procedure was shown on a movie screen, accompanied by some epic orchestral music. Unique indeed. Unfortunately they asked me not to upload a picture with the bride. But lemme tell you, she looked beautiful even though I had to get used to a head scarf wedding dress.

Special achievement

‘It’s a dangerous mountain’. Yeah yeah, fuck off. I am optimistic, some people might call it careless. Anyway, I convince Mesut and his cousin Ahmet to join me. A 4000 meter summit, an old volcano. And I must admit, I underestimated this mountain. But once again, I got lucky. We run into an organized traveling group on our first night and got invited to join them. Their leader attended the same wedding as we did. They help us out with water and guide the way up. A challenging one, especially since we start hiking at 2 AM. 13 hours later we’re back at our car. Dirty, exhausted and a bit smelly. But we did it, we fucked this puppy, we reached the summit of mount Erciyes!

And by the way, I made it into the Turkish version of CNN News. By the time we came back from our hike we got welcomed by some news reporters. A German guy who tells about his wonderful time in Turkey?That was all they were waiting for. This is me trying to be serious with my personal translator, Mesut.

Overwhelming generosity

I stayed with Mesut and his family in their summer house and I did not feel like a guest. I felt like a family member.That’s the biggest compliment I can make. His young brothers were a shit load of fun, doing weird fancy handshakes with me about 20 times a day, his mother and sister cooked tasty local food and his father kept on supplying me with cigarettes. Also his friends were great company even though they barely spoke any English. One of them said something that touched me quite a lot. Mesut translated it in the following way:

‘He said that he usually does not like it when I bring Couchsurfing guests because they don’t speak Turkish, but Daniel is fucking cool, please bring more of these Surfers‘ – Alright, he did not say ‘fucking’ – That’s just me giving it a personal touch.

I came to Kayseri by mistake and I almost dropped a tear when I left this great family. This is what traveling is about. I’ll get a fast lift to Cappadocia. They have a water boiler in their car to make some more Turkish drugs. Some more Tea. Unfortunately our little tea gathering is about to get crashed. A short moment of inadvertence and our car leaves the highway, hits some traffic poles and drifts back onto the road. We stop on the hard shoulder. We escaped with no more than a fright.

Cappadocia. There is actually not much to say about this place. It’s simply beautiful. I hitch hiked around the area for 2 days, had a great Couchsurfing host, got my first lift on a motorbike and enjoyed a sunrise with more than 100 hot air balloons. There is one thing I wanna talk about though. I wanna talk about Beysim and Trayana, a Bulgarian couple I met on my first day, while walking through a valley. Beysim worked in Germany for 2 years and has Turkish parents. Our conversations are a mix of Bulgarian, Turkish, German and English language. I’m sure we left some confused people behind us. They offered me a lift to Istanbul on Wednesday night, a lift in their VW Touareg, a lift I obviously did not refuse.

At 10 PM their car starts making weird noises. We stop at a patrol station. Beysim talks to some Turkish people and one of them wants to join them for a ride. Everything happens fast, ‘Wait here Daniel – we drive 5 km and come back’. And they are gone. I wait for an hour without anything and a weird feeling arises. Did something happen to them? I don’t wanna think about that. They did not just drive away with all my stuff, right?I am 100 percent sure they did not but at the same time, I met people who told me some fucked up stories. But still, this couple was so friendly and generous, I can’t believe they had any bad intentions.

Fortunately I have some phone data left and I feel relieved when they give me a call on Facebook. ‘Big Shit Daniel, someone will come and pick you up’ – That’s it. It’s windy and it’s cold. I join the guys inside the petrol station to stay warm. They have no idea what I am doing and I can’t explain it to them. They offer me tea. Another hour passes by until someone shows up at the patrol station and gives me a lift to the city where the Bulgarian couple awaits me. I can’t describe how happy I was to see them again.

It turns out that this guy, who joined the car to hear the weird noises, brought them to a car workshop and called a friend who also called some friends. At 11 PM 7 Turkish people gathered together and fixed the car within an hour. I could not believe it. A workshop team composed of friends and cousins just fixed it. They helped us outside their working hours, they decided to fix our car instead of spending the evening with their families and friends. One of these Turkish guys lives in Vienna, Austria. To be honest, finding a Couchsurfing host for Austria was nothing I would have expected from a Car workshop somewhere in the mittle of Turkey at 11 PM but well, it happened.

We arrived in Istanbul at 10 AM. I am still still exploring the city and enjoy the company with my host and his other Couchsurfing guests. Our conversations are most likely about porn movies ideas that involve yoghurt, racist statements and dick-measurement contests with our passports.Exactly my cup of tea. We also celebrated Bairam yesterday, one of the most important days for Muslim people.

Salam Alaikum is how you greet Muslim people. I’ve learned that in Jordan and could make good use of it in Turkey. Be careful, Turkey is dangerous right now is something I’ve heard a few times before I actually went to Turkey and I think it’s true.Dangerous in a different way though. You might fall in love with it and never ever leave again. I met some travelers who ended up staying in Turkey and I totally understand them. This country has it’s own magic and the Turkish people I’ve met, the ones that helped me out, the ones I stayed with or even just the ones who invited me for some Turkish delights simply blew my mind. I am sad to leave this country, and I am afraid that this might be the last time I will use Salam Alaikum.

It’s also my last blog post before I’ll be back in Germany. I am gonna start hitch hiking on Monday. It’s Sofia, Belgrade, Budapest, Vienna and Bergweiler. I have exactly 10 days to get back right on time for my sisters birthday. It’s the first time that I’m in a rush, the first time I have a fixed date, the first time I’ll see some familiar faces. I’ll be back with Post #25 as soon as I get back to Germany and don’t be sad – I’ll just stay home for about 10 days and hitch hike to Scandinavia afterwards.

And just in case someone will ever greet you with Salam Alaikum, I wanna teach you how to respond.

I wanna tell you a short story about a loyal companion, a reliable travel mate, a story about my lighter.

A few months ago I stayed in a Hostel in North-West Albania. The one owned by this beautiful Italian family. When I left, they gave me a lighter as a goodbye present and I put it in my backpack. A day later my regular lighter ran out. That was good timing. A week later in Tirana, my host Wendi liked the idea of lighters as a gift, so she left me a big, apple-green colored one. There was only one requirement. ‘As soon as my lighter runs out you have to send me a message’. Fair enough..

Her bilious green lighter traveled through Albania, Greece, Israel and Jordan. Quite an exciting life for a lighter. On my first day in Georgia our journey will end though. I will send Wendi a message.

My hitch hike from Wadi Musa (Petra) to Amman starts off with a little misunderstanding. It takes me only 2 minutes until the first car pulls over. ‘Amman?’ ‘Yes Amman!’ – I ask 3 times just to make sure. It feels almost to good to be true. 250 km and a straight lift? Damn, I am a lucky bitch. I get into the car and relax since the driver doesn’t speak any English once again. I get a tiny bit suspicious though after he exits the highway and continues on some sketchy gravel road. Alright, time to check google maps. As soon as my GPS location updated, I found out what was going on. There is a city called ‘Ma an’ 50km East of Petra. Fuck. But it was too late. A classic hitch hiking misunderstanding. I just accept it and decide to start hitching from Ma’an instead.

A long walk towards the highway entrance ends with me trying to find a toilet. Walking around Wadi Musa felt like being in a Zoo, walking along the road in Ma’an is a similar experience, but on crack. It’s these areas tourists would never go to. These areas where my tattoos either shock, or tease people. Anyway, literally everyone is staring at me. I find a toilet quite close to the highway entrance and some people who are sitting in front of a car workshop invite me for a coffee. Half an hour later I have selfies with each of them and I also have some new Facebook friends.Apparently adding western people on Facebook is considered as something ‘cool’. Suddenly a friend of them arrived to change its car’s oil. Turns out he’s going to Amman. And that’s it. In retrospect getting to Ma’an and meeting these people was the luckiest thing that could happen. A straight lift to Amman, without even putting up my thumb.

In Amman I get welcomed by my new host Khalil. An amazing human being. Generous, hospitable and a great chef. He even loves washing the dishes. I can’t believe how he is still single. It’s one of these great Couchsurfing experiences. We don’t do much, we mainly just hang out in his living room, eat tasty food, watch TV and just talk. Like something you would do back home with your friends. And this is exactly what you need sometimes when you’re on a long journey.

Nevertheless on my third day I finally get my ass off the couch and do some sight seeing. The old citadel reveals a stunning view over the city and also offers some ancient temples. It’s freaking Hercules temple!It makes me laugh since it unavoidably reminds me of these old shitty movies with Kevin Sorbo. Hmm..childhood memories.

Alright, back to Khalil’s apartment. Sight seeing is super exhausting. The temperature is 36 degrees. Seriously, I am looking forward to lower temperatures. I haven’t had anything colder than 35 degrees in the last 6 weeks. Fortunately the apartment has an air condition. And like I said, Khalil is a great chef. In case you’re like ‘Something looks wrong on these pictures’ – yes you are right. I shaved. Involuntary. I went to a barber shop in Wadi Musa for a trim and this guy just fucked it up. Khalil offered me his shaver and that’s the end of the story. I look 5 years younger, feel clean and I look less scary. I don’t like it.

I tell Khalil about my lighter story. He likes it and decides to do the same as Wendi did. He gives me a lighter before I leave. And believe me or not – the day after I left, my lighter ran out again. Fate or just a funny coincidence – I can’t tell. I always keep my promises, so I sent Wendi her picture. A picture from Georgia, sitting in the living area with my new hosts while drinking beer out of tea cups.

This was the end of my middle east detour. I’m glad I took it even though I missed out on Iran cause of some visa issues. I had an amazing time and guys, let me tell you something. Don’t be stupid, these countries aren’t dangerous at all! The tourism sector suffers a lot cause people consider Israel or Jordan as dangerous. Fuck the news, they are not. If you ever get the chance, don’t miss out on the middle east and experience a whole different culture and hospitality like you have never experienced it before.

So there we go, I am back on track. I am heading back towards Germany. According to google maps the direkt way is 4200 km. I wanna be back on the 14th of September for my sisters birthday and to hitch hike towards Scandinavia before winter is coming. Damn, I can’t wait for the next episode.

I am standing at the border control. The Albanien policeman asks me to put my backpack down on a shiny metal table. He gets ready to search thoroughly. Before he starts to open my rucksack his eyes catch my small stachel. Its faded red color tells of countless adventures. ‘Passport?‘ Some travelers fear this question, I don’t. I take out my most precious gift. My German passport. ‘Oh, Germany? How do you like Albania?’ the policeman asks in a voice, that turned from official to casual within seconds. I tell him I actually loved his country and he waves me through the border check. Once again it makes me realize, how lucky I actually am to be a German citizen. Once again it makes me realize, how unlucky other people are, other travelers I met along the way.

About 2 hours later Greece will present me with its welcome gift. A swollen eye….

It’s Tuesday Morning when I arrive at my hostel in Sarande. 6€ per night. I don’t expect anything. I don’t expect anything but I get a lot. A warmhearted owner, a scenic view from my dorm’s balcony and a welcome gift. Rakija. I stopped counting how many of these I’ve drunken within the last few weeks. I keep telling myself it’s healthy, I mean it’s made of fruits, right? I reckon that’s how Albanian people justify having Rakija for breakfast as well.

‘How long are you staying for‘ is one of the standard questions you come up with, when talking to the other guests. The common answer is 1 or 2 days. But not in Beni’s hostel. 1,2 or even 3 weeks is a common answer. And I see why. It’s a cheap place that offers a lot. A little wellness oasis. A place to recover and regain strength. A place to be lazy as fuck. The most interesting individual in this hostel is called Marco. Marco from Suriname. Yes, Suriname. It’s a country in South America. An educating travel blog once again. You’re welcome.

Marco has rented a scooter and makes sure I’ll see all the secret beaches around Sarande. He also makes sure that I don’t spend the entire day laying on the balcony. And he brings me to a good hitch hiking spot on Saturday morning. We bid goodbye without expecting to see each other again about 1 hour later.

It’s 40 degrees. Not quite the temperature you’d ask for if you plan to hitch 150 km. For the moment I’ll get lucky though. Mathias and Kati pull over. A young couple from Austria. A couple that travels a lot. My second lift by Austrian tourists. That’s a personal record for this trip – thanks Austria! They offer me to join them to a beautiful spot called ‘blue eye’. Since I don’t have other plans anyway I decide to join.Also their car’s aircon makes me wanna stick with them as long as possible. We have a lot of stories to share because traveling is our common interest. Mathias has been in Syria when the war started a few years ago. Some intense stories.

On our way back to their car I spot a familiar face. Fuck man, it’s Marco again. That’s what I call a premature reunion. It also turns out that the Austrian couple stays in the same hostel as I did. I can just repeat myself…it’s a small world. Considering the amount of funny coincidences, Mathias and Kati decide to bring me to the Greek border. Sometimes you get these lucky lifts. You better enjoy them, since luck might abandon you in the blink of an eye.

This will remain my only lift on that hot Saturday.

People’s warning for hitch hiking in Greece will prove itself true. I’m walking along the narrow road, trying to fight the heat and occasionally lift my thumb when a car passes by. After a 2 hour walk my path crosses a little lake. That’s the perfect opportunity to go for a swim. I leave the main road and follow a little gravel path towards the lakeside. I can’t wait to dive into the cold water. Ohh, look at this, there is colorful boxes along the path. Interesting. I guess the burning heat stopped my brain from working. Otherwise I might have been more cautious.

It hits me like a gun bullet straight under my left eye. A spotty pain. What the fuck.

It leaves me confused for a second before I realize, what is actually going on. Bloody bee boxes, I just entered their territory. I run. I run as fast as I can. Some bees are chasing me but luckily they leave me alone as soon as I get back to the main road. I pull out the sting and keep on walking. No cold water for me, instead I got a swollen eye.And let me tell you, looking like you just came out of a boxing match doesn’t make hitch hiking any easier…

I’ll walk for another 12 kilometers on that day. Flies are surrounding my head. My whole body is covered in sweat. Even at 5 pm it still has 38 degrees. I start to swear. I do it in German. It’s consistent with what people told me about swearing. You usually fall back into your mother tongue while cursing.

I’ll arrive in a small village around 8 pm. Exhausted and dehydrated. I’ll grab some new water from a petrol station and will set up my tent. I won’t even try to hide it. I just wanna take a rest and call it a day.

A swollen eye. Not the welcome gift I expected but I guess it was the one I deserved after walking into that bee area incautiously. I’m glad that a car stops after 30 minutes on the morning after. A straight lift to Ioannina. That’s where I am right now. I’m finally couchsurfing again!

An my eye also gets better slowly. This is a picture of how it looked like 2 days after I got stung.

By the way, I booked a flight. I will fly to Israel on the 13th of July. That means I am on a clock now. I’ll hitch towards Meteora on Thursday to do some hiking. From there I’ll head down South towards Athens. People told me once again that it’s going to be super rough considering the hitch hiking situation in Greece.

But hey, I had impossible hitch hikes before, I had religious women paying for my bus, had people asking me about my wiener and I hitched to mountain summits. How hard can hitching to a fucking capital actually be?

I’m about to find out. I’m about to find out what welcome gift Athens holds ready for me.

I don’t see myself as a believer… I can’t identify with any specific religion, even though I see good approaches in each of them… I believe in the idea of karma. Guess that’s what all religions have in common somehow. So that’s me. I’m trying to be a good person and I’m convinced it will be worth while. If I pray? No, I haven’t for a long time. But that will change soon.

Olja is my host in Sarajevo. A character who could easily join a Quentin Tarantino movie. His facial expression makes it almost impossible to judge whether he’s serious or just bullshitting. According to himself, Olja has a 2-second short term memory. For that reason his favorite answer to any question is “I don’t remember” and it usually comes with a cheeky smile. As you might have figured out already, me and Olja are having a good time together. “Man, can I take a shower?” “Only if you bring it back”

Since Olja offers his place on pretty much every online platform (like Airbnb, Hostelworld, several Camping-Websites and Couchsurfing), his living room is usually quite busy. I met quite a few people these days, but there’s one guy I will remember. Joe, an American dude in his early thirties, who is traveling around Europe doing volunteering work at different places. Since he has been doing that for a few years already, he has heaps stories to share. He overstayed his French visa for 1 year and could not leave the country on a official way without getting in trouble. That’s why he started working on sailing boats and finally left France on a boat. Apparently that’s the best way for illegal border crossings. I’ll keep that in mind…just in case.

Before we met at Olja’s place, Joe was working on a horse farm in Bosnia and Herzegovina for almost 2 months. Until he got hit by a horse. He was lucky though – just a few bruises. The 53 years old owner of this horse farm was used to be one of the biggest drug dealers in Bosnia, is dating a 19 years old girl, and helps organizing dog fights. Like in a Tarantino movie. Apparently dog fights are still a thing in Bosnia and Herzegovina. I feels like it must be a thing in every country though – you just never come to know because you don’t want to. Joe has definitely more than enough stories to keep me entertained all the way up to Olympic mountain. Sarajevo hold the Winter Olympic Games in 1984. Nowadays you can still find heaps of these old sports facilities – more or less destroyed. The highlight is an old bobsled run. Covered with graffiti it’s a great place to take arty pictures. I reckon walking down an old, abandoned bobsled is one of these once in a lifetime experiences. This is way better than these touristic hot spots.

It’s Wednesday morning. My plan is to get a shower, pack my stuff, search for a good spot and hitch hike 200 kilometers down South to Ljubuski. First to Mostar and to Ljubuski afterwards. I wanna see Sile, a young musician who game me a lift 1 week earlier and invited me over. We stayed in touch and I wanted to meet him before I leave the country. But like I said before. Plans usually work out in a different way for me.

“I don’t know what, but apparently you did something right in your life” – That’s how Olja welcomes me when I walk down the stairs in the morning. I’m confused. This is what happened. At midnight Oha arrived at Olja’s house (please excuse me for these confusing names). Oha and Olja are old friends and since he was in town for a concert, he decided to visit. Oha will give me a straight lift to Mostar.

I’m not sure if I should be worried though, since Oha is drinking beer and doing shots in the morning. I decide not to and just grab a beer instead. I’m having a peach for breakfast and offer one to Oha. “I started my day unhealthy already, I wanna keep it like this”. He also explains himself. “I’m a better driver if I drink. If I’m sober I speed. If I’m drunk I drive quite slowly instead”.I love this guy. Oha is a musician in the most famous band of the Balkan area. Dubioza Kolektiv. They even had a gig in Saarbrücken, a city nearby my home. What a small world. Oha also knows Sile, they were working at the same music school. What a small world indeed. On our way to Mostar we pick up another hitch hiker, Marek from Czechia, and the three of us end up in Oha’s apartment, doing hard local liquor and listening to music all night until we pass out on Oha’s couch in the early morning. 10 days earlier I could not find a Couchsurfing-Host in Mostar. Now I’m actually sleeping on a couch in Mostar. Again, this Irony amuses me..

On that evening, Oha will tell me about his childhood in Herzegovina. He grew up in an orphanage and became a child soldier. Nobody cares if orphans die, so they make good soldiers, he explains. He killed 6 people when he was 14 years old. I can’t imagine.Still he fought his way out of this hell. He became a musician and nowadays he’s leading a Rock school in Mostar. Helping children and students to follow his example. It’s these kind of stories that make me believe in miracles. It’s these kind of stories that make others ‘thank god’. It makes me think about the ‘Everything is possible couple’.

I’ll arrive in Ljubuski on Thursday, around noon. I don’t feel like there’s any need to tell you how easy hitch hiking in Bosnia and Herzegovina is anymore. I get a lift straight to Sile’s apartment. “Are you kidding me, I didn’t even give you my address” Sile says. He’s right, my last lift just knew where he lives. Like I said, it’s a small world. Sile is living together with his parents and his 2 siblings. No idea how he could convince his mum to host a tattooed traveler he picked up while hitch hiking, but he did somehow. I’m his first ‘couchsurfer‘. I feel honored. I meet many of Sile’s friends and I’m having a great time. We visit beautiful places, have heaps food together and just enjoy life. “Toni, how many beers are you allowed to drink while driving?” “About 20 if you have 10 Euros with you“. We’re having a good laugh. 10 Euros…that reminds me of something..

Sile’s mum is one of the most generous people I’ve ever met. Even though we can barely communicate she makes sure I won’t loose any weight, she does my laundry and she even irons my shirts. I’m not gonna tell her that ironing my clothes is actually useless because I have to squeez them into my backpack anyway. “Thank you so much” is all I can say. “Thank not me, thank god” is what she replies. She is a strong believer. And she has been fighting cancer for a year now…..

Like I said in the very beginning. I haven’t prayed for a long time. On that night, I pray. I pray for Sile’s mum and hope that there’s actually a god somewhere out there.

On Sunday morning, Sile brings me to the Croatian border. It’s our goodbye. It’s also the end of my Bosnia and Herzegovina adventure and I can’t think of any better ending. Not because Sile and his friend showed me around and were amazing and hospital hosts. More because it felt like staying with old buddies. An unique feeling if you’re traveling alone.

I could not be more more thankful for my Bosnia and Herzegovina experience. I learned a lot about people dealing with a cruel past, about different religions living together and about generosity.

A few hours after Sile dropped me off, I’ll be standing on a road in Croatia. An old man will walk by and he will give me fruits. 2 Mandarines. 3 hours later I will share them with the guy who will give me a lift to Dubrovnik. Give and take. I will name this lift the “touching my thighs dude”. But let’s talk about that in my next post….

After saying goodbye to Jasmin, I’m walking towards the train station. You must understand, hitch hiking out of a city is not that easy. Usually you have to go close to a highway by train or by bus. In general I just ask people about a good spot or simply find it by myself. This time I trusted hitchwiki, a webpage which has set itself to recommend hitch hiking spots and tips. This wasn’t the best idea I’ll find out later.

“No, they can’t be serious…I’m supposed to walk over this bridge?” As it turns out the directions to the petrol station include some high risk adventure. No footpath, an unclear road and fast cars. I’m not going to risk my life..Fuck this spot. At this point I have no idea which situation I’ll find myself in about 24 hours later.

Breathe in….breathe out…my hearth is beating more slowly now…

A look at google maps, a Burger King coffee and an long walk later I’m at a new spot. Looks good to me. Straight in front of the highway entrance. No success. But all good. It has only been 3 hours. Still heaps time. Let’s change the spot. I wonder if there’s a way to get to the petrol station I tried a few hours ago without crossing that dumb bridge…Google maps….. ok, I think I got it. Just another hour of walk. The sun is beating down on me, sweat is running down my face and my feet start getting painful. Maybe not the best idea to wear my thongs after all. I switch to regual shoes. I’m exhausted but still positive..even though it’s already 4pm and I haven’t even gotten further to Austria. In a sketchy looking side street I’ll find something, something that’s gonna make me forget about all the stuff for a moment. I’m about to find a hitch hikers treasure.

In the morning I forgot to ask for new cardboard, so finding these feels like fate to me. People walking by look confused when they see me ripping up some cartons with a big, fat smile. It’s the little things in life. After climbing over some fences and walking through hip high grass, I’m finally on the highway..I’m standing on the petrol station. 2 lifts and 250 km later I’m near Venice again. At another patrol station. And on the right highway to leave Italy. I’m fully satisfied when I decide to set up my tent. It is already half past 9 and there’s no need to hitch hike in the dark. I made good kilometers today, let’s have a rest. Tomorrow I’ll get out of Italy easily.

I’m getting up at around 8am. Accompanied by the sound of cars driving on the highway I’m brushing my teeth. A sound that feels like home for me. A sound that makes me feel calm. A sound that makes sure, you’re not having a restful sleep. My always optimistic mind has a hard time since nobody is stopping for 5 hours. It’s also getting cold and windy. Combined with my lack of sleep it makes me feel like I’m getting high temperature. Is it just a feeling or is it actually real? I don’t know and what would it change anyway. I’m stuck on a petrol station that I can’t leave without lift, so the only thing I can do is keep on going, even though it feels harder to smile with every car, that just passes by…and there are many of these.

At 2 pm there’s finally someone stopping. He wants to bring me another 20km towards Venice and wants to drop me straight at the highway entrance. It’s a bad idea and it’s a bad lift. I wanna leave this petrol station though, I’m sick of it so I say “Yes”. 20 minutes later I find myself standing in front of the toll barriers and it starts raining. There must be someone stopping now.

Breathe in…..breathe out…. I’m squatting to bring some relief to my legs. Even though it’s just for a few seconds. My legs are quite thankful.

I talked a lot to people about the easiest way to hitch hike. If you’re in the middle of nowhere and it starts raining, that is like a garanteed lift since people will feel sad for you, I told them. Apparently this does not count for Italy. I’m standing at this spot for another 3 hours. I’m soaked, cold and start to feel desperate. I actually can’t believe not one of these cars passing by feels the need to help. And I do definitely look like I could use some. 35 hours on the road, living off toast with jam and sleeping at a petrol station, left some marks. I have a look at google maps again, out of distress. And it catches me by suprised when I read a somehow familiar name near my position.

Fuck that, it’s the place Luca lives! Luca was my host when I stayed in Venice 2 weeks ago. It just takes a short message and Luca invites me over. He’s saving my ass. It’s just another 7km walk. I can’t wait for a meal and a warm shower..soo let’s wing it! The only way to get there though leads over country roads without pedestrian ways. One day earlier I was not willing to take that risk…now I am. Cars must use the oncoming lane to avoic crashing into me. Considering their speed this would simply mean death for me. So I’m as careful as possible. I feel like every single one of these cars has the desire to honk at me, but as soon as they see that monster of backpack I’m carrying with me and how soaked my clothes are, they must feel pity. They just leave me with a weird glance. But I’m a hitch hiker, so I’m used to these.

Breathe in….breathe out…. I can feel the heat at my lips. Like they’re just about to burn. My cigarette is done. I get up, watch the traffic for a few seconds and start running.

My way led me to a huge, busy roundabout. It’s not made for pedestrians to cross so I just wait for the right time to run through the cars. It’s dangerous for sure and I would defintely shake my had as a road user seeing it. But I got no choice.I arrive at Lucas place by 9pm. It’s great to see him again, he’s as hospital as 2 weeks ago, and I decide to stay for another night. Just to take a day off. I can use it.

Saturday morning Luca brings me to the highway before he starts to work. At 7.30am. 230km to Austria. The same spot the police caught me 2 weeks ago. This time they’re just passing by without doing anything. I don’t wanna give up on italians street humanity. 6 hours later my speaker, that is playing music on shuffle, decides to play Sia – Never give up. It is 13.30pm – it is extremely hot. My face looks like a tomato since I still haven’t managed to buy some sunscreen. Maybe I should consider to drop the “hitch” and simply hike out of Italy instead.

I do give up.

Another 8km walk to the city, another 5minutes to create a “blabla car” account and I have a lift. A paied lift to Austria. I’ve tried hard but I could not manage to leave Italy by hitch hiking. I’m a bit disappointed with myself.

I’ll arrive in Klagenfurt a few hours later and Alex, a guy who gave me a lift 2 weeks earlier and invited me over, picks me up. He’s living in a house near a lake. Quiet place. I love it. it feels like a rehab considering the last 3 days.

Today I hiked to a church on a nearby mountain. You can ring the bell and make a wish. That’s what it says. I do. “I wish I’ll never have to hitch hike in Italy ever again”. Just kidding.

That’s all she said. Or at least that’s all I could understand. I’m nervously looking at the speedometer. Is she insane? ‘Hallelujah!’.

I have hitch hiked about 10000 km in my life, have had about 200 lifts but this one is going to be the craziest one I’ve ever had. But let’s start 3 days earlier. Or to be more precise, let’s start in Graz, Austria.

It is Tuesday, the 2nd of March when I met Gleana in Graz. She’s a girl from Venezuela, trying to get a visa for Germany. I do realize once again how lucky I actually are to be blessed with a german passport. At some point I find out Gleana wants to go to Venice on Thursday…by bus. Alright Daniel, let’s think about that for a second. You wanna go to Florence. That’s 700km from Graz. Venice is pretty much in the middle. “What about hitch hiking to Venice tomorrow?” Actually it was not pretty hard to convince her, so I’ll find myself standing on the road the day after, accompanied by a Venezuelan girl. Hitch hiking out of Graz is supposed to be super difficult, so I was glad I have some company. Plus a good looking latino girl should increase the chances of getting picked up anyway, right?

I guess it does. After 1 1/2 hours Alex pulls over. A 25 years old guy with disney tattoos all over his right arm. Exactly my cup of tea! Not only is he giving us a lift for about 150 km, he also invites us over to his lake house. Unfotunately we were somehow in a rush since Gleana had only 2 days to spend. But later this week, when I leave Florence, I’ll definitely stop at Alex’s place. While I was sharing my New Zealand experiences with him, my female companion was taking a nap. I could not blame her for falling asleep though since there were no back seats but a mattress in the car. Did I mention that I love taking pictures of sleeping people?

Byebye Alex, see ya next week! He’s dropping us off at a huge patrol station. Gleana is using her lipstick to draw some hearts on our hitch hiking sign and I’m searching for my speaker to turn on some good music while the sun is slowly coming out. We end up dancing to spanish music, getting our faces burnt by the sun and waving our Italy sign towards the cars riding by. This is hitch hiking at its best. And it got even better when 2 young guys from Vienna pull over and offer us a lift to the Italian border. They also have some Schnitzel leftovers. Seems like I’ll have a Schnitzel in Austria after all!

When they drop us off at a highway station I do become a little bit sceptic. I can tell if a spot is good for hitch hiking within a few seconds. This one is definitely not. Barely any cars and 2 different exits. But anyway, this scenic view made definitely up for that. Simply the most beautiful hitch hiking spot I’ve ever been at.

There’s about 1 car driving by each 10 minutes. I don’t give a single fuck. This spot is so amazing, I would not even mind to set up my tent, get a cheap bottle of wine from the patrol station nearby, and spend a night here. It’s not supposed to happen though. At around 7 pm Martin from Czech Republic pulls over. Knee long dread-locks and a doggy called Loco. That’s a classy lift! He’s driving around Europe with his van while earning some money with busking. He’s not only driving us to Venice, he drops us off straight in front of our Couchsurfing-Hosts appartment, even though that meant a 60km detour for him. Talking about our Host…Gelana found a last minute host near Venice and he turned out to be one of the most generous people I’ve ever met. I spend 2 nights at his place. He also told me where to find 3 kilo Tabacco for 15 Euros in Bosnia. Maybe I don’t have to stop smoking after all haha.

I don’t wanna talk much about Venice. It’s exactly what you might expect. A place full of tourists, overpriced gondolas and pizza. Which is obviously overpriced as well. In addition to that it started raining quite a lot. Good thing I brought neither my rain jacket nor an umbrella. If you’re disappointed and if you wanna learn more about Venice just watch Johnny Depps ‘The Tourist” movie. Now I get the irony of the movies name. It’s a bad movie though. So let’s go on with the fun part. Hitch hiking from Venice to Florence.

Luca, our host from Venice, dropped me off near the highway entrance at around 11 am in the morning. In case you’re wondering what happened to my female companion – she took a bus back to Graz to get her visa stuff sorted out. So it’s me, standing on the road alone again, and even though I can feel my thumb getting sore slowly I’m still enjoying myself. At least I am until a police car pulls over. Apparently you’re not allowed to hitch hike near the highway in Italy. After a short discussion they let me walk away towards the city. After half an hour I found a new spot which sucked quite a lot but standing there was pretty much all I could do since all the better spots were not accessible without a car.

Took me only 4 hours until someone stopped and it felt like hitch hiking in Japan cause the driver didn’t speak any english at all. It didn’t matter though. I was waiting for so long, I would actually take any lift that brings me any closer to Florence at this point. When he dropped me off around 15 minutes later I realised what just happened. Instead of brining me to a highway station, he brought me straight to a rural road that leads into the direction of Florence. I get off the car, I look at my watch..it’s 4 pm… and I got 10 km closer to Florence. Well…guess it’s gonna be a long day then! At least my lift left me a little piece of paper on which he wrote the names of the cities I gotta pass in order to reach Florence.

Great, so I just had to write another 5 hitch hiking signs and I’ll be good. Should be alright to hitch hike on rural roads, or what do you think? To be honest, it catched me by surprise when 3 minutes later a car stopped and offered me a lift to Padova, the first name on my list. I felt like Uma Thurman after killing O-Ren Ishii. Only 4 more names on my list to cross.

I didn’t consider my second lift not knowing shit about hitch hiking though. So he dropped me off at IKEA and convinced me of it being a great spot for getting to Bologna. “Bologna? Jesus Christ, usually it’s only locals shopping in this IKEA” the woman at the information desk told me. They had a good laugh. At least they supported me by providing the biggest peace of cardboard I’ve ever gotten. It might even be the biggest hitch hiking sign in human history. Yes, it was definitely gallows humor at this point.

To shorten it up a little bit: Within the next 3 hours I got 3 lifts. 3 lifts that brought me 30 km closer to Florence. So I found myself standing at a petrol station 20 km before Rovigo. Yes, I didn’t even make it to the second name on the list. 2 cars stopped though. The first one was a prostitute, asking me if I’m up for sex and the second car aksed if I wanna buy some weed or cocaine. If I wasn’t that exhausted, I’m sure I could have laught about it. 8.30 pm…the sun went down and it started to get dark slowly. It’s still another 250km to Florence. Impossible, isn’t it?

But then, all of a sudden, god send me a Hallelujah.

An expensive Mercedes car pulls over, an elderly woman jumps out of the car und starts yelling at me in Italian. I have no idea what is going to happen but I understand that she wants me to get into her car. When I tell her that I wanna reach Florence she can’t believe what I’m doing. Every second sentence she says turns into either “Hallelujah” or “mio dio”. She just keeps on speaking and I keep on not understanding anything. I am overfatigued and somehow I just burst out laughing. The whole situation was killing me. The fact she was driving 100 kmh in a 50 zone made it even funnier. Jesus Daniel, where did you get into? A few minutes later she stops in front of a house. I understand “mi casa”, so I assume it’s her house. Looks expensive. Matches her car. Yeah, it must be her house. That lady, who is called Miriam by the way, runs into her house and comes out accompanied by her son a few minutes later.

He spoke some english so I slowly got an idea of what’s actually happening. Apparently I caused some mother instincts in Miriam. She was so afraid for me that she insisted on bringing me to Bologna. She further insisted on me buying a train ticket from there to Florence. While she kept on speeding and talking in Italian to me, she drove me another 100 km to Bologna and entered the train station with me. Guess she was convinced I would be lost without her. That might explain why she didn’t wanna leave me alone. Unfortunately there was no train so we started searching for a night bus. To come to an end, I’m just gonna skip the part in which Miriam drives around the city like she’s insane, stopping in the middle of main roads and roundabouts to ask people for directions, and even chasing me by foot when I just left the car at some point. Anyway, in the end we somehow found it, figured out that there is a Flixbus to Florence at 12am and Miriam even insisted on paying for my bus ticket.

So that’s it. It felt like a miracle when I hugged Jasmin at 2 am on the Bus Station in Florence. Jasmin is the girl I met in Graz a few days earlier.

For now, this should be enough to read. I’ll share my Florence stories on my next post. Today we’re taking a train to the west cost, search for a nice spot on the beach and we’ll spend a night wild camping over there. Hopefully without any police stories this time.

I am an idiot. A few days ago I wrote my 3th Blog-Post and I named it ‘let it snow’. Apparently the weather god took that litteraly. Or he or she is just an Ahole with a propensity for irony. Even though these pictures of hitch hiking in the snow might look badass – for me it meant the roughest hitch hiking day I’ve ever experienced.

About 2 degrees, soaked shoes and socks and shaking hands ensured that I could not enjoy this hitch hiking day as much as usual. But that’s part of the game, isn’t it? Anyway, I got 400 km to cover that day. I had a funny first lift after about 30 minutes. A group of guys, driving a 9 seater van, pulled over and offered both, cold beer and fun company. They were on their way to a hut to have an ‘apres ski party weekend’. Which means they were up for getting shitfaced 3 days long. Considering the amount of beer bottles they emptied while driving, I’d bet they were successful. These dudes even invited me over for a night, but I had a couchsurfing host waiting for me in Graz. That’s why they dropped me off about 150 km later. Another 20 minutes passsed before 2 road workers picked me up for another 40 km. “Here dude, take this had – just in case you’ll get stuck here. It’s cold” they said when I was leaving the car. And yes, it was cold indeed. Surrounded by the snow covered alps, I was standing on a regular road, at a bus stop in the middle of nowhere. While waiting for a car to stop I kept breathing in my hands to stop them from becoming numb. It took me another 30 minutes to get my next lift. Even though that’s actually a pretty decent time, it felt way longer. And I can’t descibe how happy I was when the driver, who just pulled over, told me he’s driving all the way down to Graz. Jackpot. 200 km, 2 coffees and a few cigarettes later, we arrived in Graz. Drago, the name of the bosnian guy who brought me to Graz, drove me straight to my hosts appartment. The couchsurfing season has finally started!

Michale and Thomas, these are the names of the guys hosting me right now, are also hosting another 4 travelers, or at least they were until the other couchsurfers left this morning. Therefore the last days reminded me of staying in a hostel. We explored the city, had some cheap wine on top of a mountain at night, cooked some tasty meals and obviously talked heaps bullshit. Alright, that was mostly my part. And if I think of last night, three germans, a turkish and a afghanish dude, a ukrainish and a taiwanese girl dancing on top of the mountain while listening to Buena Vista Social Club, surrounded by the city lights, then I know excatly why I went for this adventure. Right now, I could not feel any better even though I’m hungover somehow. I’m having a blast in Graz!

So what’s next? Michael did hitch hike around europe as well about a year ago. He shared his experiences of hitch hiking in Bosnia, the Kosovo area and Macedonia. And hell, that sounded way to amazing to not do it. It is a good plan, ey? Well yes, it actually was for 1 day. Yesterday a ukrainian and a taiwanese girl started couchsurfing at Michaels flat as well. They’re studying in California and doing a semester abroad in Italy. They invited me over to Florence and offered me a couch. How could I ever decline that? So Italy it is. Pretty unexpected but there’s nothing wrong with some tasty pizza, good coffee and expensive ice cream, right? It’s 600 km – I’m not sure if I can make it in 1 day so I might have a stopover in Venice. At least it’s not supposed to snow anymore. I’ll be on the road again on Wednesday!

But I promise you, after Italy, I’m heading towards Bosnia and the Kosovo area. Which means I gotta cross Slowenia and Croatia. I’m so stoaked about Bosnia already, I’m sure there will be some unique stories to tell.